Vraelson-ebrithil
by Sue-Drae
Summary: The aforementioned one-shot series that will show snippets of Eragon Vraelson's best, brightest, worst, and most humorous misadventures in teaching youngling Riders the ways of the Order. Takes place just before Eragon Vraelson is set, in that same AU world. No pairings, not likely going to change.


A/N:

I promised I'd have a one-shot series of Eragon Vraelson being all mentor-y. I recommend reading at least the first and secnd chapter of Eragon Vraelson to understand the setting of the AU but it's not necessary. It's pretty self-explanatory I think...

Hope you like it :)

* * *

Eragon Vraelson was many things; elf, Rider, the son of Lead Rider Vrael, partner to Saphira Brightscales, and many more.

But now, facing that unassuming oaken door before him, he couldn't help but feel nervous.

_It's foolish_, he assured himself with a frown. _I have destroyed armies, ended revolutions. I have seen that the sky is hollow and that the earth is round. I have defeated sea monsters, Raz'zac. I am the bearer of Brisingr, to light the darkness with truth and bring peace to the battle-worn countryside._

But he was anxious.

Eragon had been younger than most elves when he was Chosen as a Rider. No one was surprised, however. His father was _Vrael_, after all, and his mother was the Rider Niande, who had died a hero, saving the lives of a village full of innocent people. He had been trained to defend himself and fight since he could hold a weapon or draw upon the magic within him. Of course he had been a Rider.

Saphira had hatched for Eragon when he was a youngling, the beauty of youth not yet aged from his features, only twenty-three years old. His youth did little to hamper his growth, however. He excelled in swordplay and, when it was deemed time for him to learn, was adept at crafting spells by twisting his knowledge of the ancient language to fit his purposes. His master had been wise Oromis and the great Glaedr, two masters in their own right, and he and Saphira had flourished.

Within fifteen years, Eragon and Saphira were deemed ready for induction into the Order as some of the youngest to have been inducted in nigh over a century. The two had spent their time going through the Broddring Kingdom under their Lord and Father's orders and direction.

Yes, the two were highly accomplished. In a fight, few could best Eragon. Even fewer could outfly Saphira.

That acknowledgment did little to settle his nerves but he was out of time to delay any longer.

Steeling his nerves, Eragon ensured that Brisingr was secured to his belt correctly before pushing the oaken door open.

He resisted the urge to blink in the sudden streams of sunlight assaulted his eyes. He trained his eyes on the large table before him, at which sat the Council. Before the Elders stood a small group of humans, elves, and juvenile dragons. The youngest human was perhaps twelve and the oldest in his mid-twenties. The elves were harder to discern, of course, but Eragon knew that each to be out of their youngling years, at least thirty or thirty fives years old. The youngest dragon appeared to be only a couple of months old, barely old enough to have been drafted into this year's recruits. If she had hatched only a little later, she and her Rider would have been kept in Illirea until the next recruitment season to grow and learn there until physically able to handle the stresses of the apprenticeship.

"Ah, Eragon," a familiar voice greeted warmly. Eragon met the older elf's eyes and, respectfully, began the ancient greeting, ghosting his fingertips over his lips. Oromis smiled proudly as he finished the traditional greeting before inviting Eragon to look at the gathered elves and humans.

"The newest apprentices," another Elder, an older human man named Tourin. Eragon knew that, though he looked to be in his early forties at most, the man was nearly two hundred years old. He was neither exceptionally wise or strong but he had a clever mind and sharp wit. "Recently come from Illirea."

"I see." Eragon determined that Tourin was hinting that their apprenticeships were not yet assigned. The masters of these younglings would be decided within the week once the newly bonded pairs had gotten a little more traction in Doru Araeba.

"Oromis had recommended that you be the Rider to help our recent arrivals settle in their new quarters and make them aware of the duties expected of them as youngling apprentices."

"Consider it done," Eragon said with a small smile. 'Show them the ropes.' "Are we to begin now?" he asked, eyeing the crowd. There were six in total, two humans and four elves. Their dragon companions were a veritable rainbow, ranging from burnt oranges to rich violets. A single coal-grey male broke the colorful pattern.

"Aye."

"Very well." _Saphira, the younglings have been entrusted to us until their apprenticeships have begun._ Bowing his head to the Elders, Eragon turned on his heel to face the younglings. "Follow me, young ones. And welcome to your new home."

* * *

Eragon led the younglings around the city, showing them to the forges, the kitchens, and the residential districts., talking all the while. Through his explanations, Eragon learned the name of each of the young apprentices and their companions. Once the younglings had set their scant luggage at the small apartments they would live in for the first five years of their apprenticeship, Eragon moved on to show them an area they would very soon grow to despise.

"And this," he began, smiling fondly as the sounds of clashing metal and men calling out met his ears, "is the western training ground."

There were three main training areas close to Doru Araeba and, for the most part, they were divided by level of skill. The smallest training ground to the south would be where the younglings would learn or practice their swordplay with various experts. Once the younglings finished tuatha du orothrim, their training would be transferred to the eastern training ground where they would continue to learn under their sparring partners and teachers but would be able to challenge other apprentices or the younger fledged Riders.

The western training ground was almost forbidden territory to the younglings. It was there that the masters of the sword honed their skill. It was simply too dangerous to have a youngling in the area until they gained the reflexes necessary to even survive a master's form. The western ground was also where other weapon-users trained. It was not uncommon to see a Rider practicing with a pole arm, daggers, or the occasional mace. The largest archery ranges were set at the western ground as well, leading to a large number of elven practitioners gathering to the field.

"You won't be training here for many months, but this is the goal that many of you, if you chose a warrior path, will aim for. To be welcomed here is to be an expert in your field of weaponry or to have chosen a weapon that few others are proficient in. This field is open to fully fledged Riders and the oldest of apprentices."

"Wicked," the oldest human boy, the twenty-three year old Jarv, breathed as he watched two riders sparring. One bore a spiked mace while the other wielded a thin elven blade. Eragon nodded.

"Try to temper your enthusiasm, though, Jarv. You are young still. This ground will likely not be open to you again for fifteen years at the-"

"My lord!" a familiar voice greeted the group. Eragon turned, an exasperated smile on his face.

"How many times have I bade you abandon that title, Kohr? You and I were nearly apprentices together," Eragon said to the human amiably. Kohr only shrugged, hefting his staff sword, not disimilar to the dwarven Huthvir, over his shoulder.

"At least one too few," the man bantered back before looking at the rather intimidated younglings. "Is it that time already?"

"Yes. The Elders should have all six safely apprenticed by the end of the week but, in the meantime, Saphira and I have been entrusted with-"

"Keeping the little brats out of trouble?" Kohr grinned. Jarv's face twisted with anger and more than one elf's eyes grew cold but Eragon kept his face neutral.

"Out of trouble and out of undue scrutiny. Waste your drivel elsewhere, Kohr; you know I've no patience for it."

"You have more patience than most of your kind. The only elf with half a sense of human," Kohr chuckled, glancing almost warily at one of the elven girls, Kuarai. Her companion, a dark violet female named Sainya. Kuarai's only response was to narrow her eyes at the older man.

"More patience does not mean infinite, old friend. You should behave yourself," Eragon scolded lightly. "The Elders shall have your case before them soon. Your hundredth year approaches, does it not?"

"Not for another five years. I have time yet to repent and amend my brash ways... I doubt I'd have much patience for a scholarly life though. I'd rather continue working in the field. Someone's got to do your job, eh? Especially if Oromis-elda's word is to be believed."

"Oromis-ebrithil has a reason for all he does. If he believes that I am ready, I'll have to be ready."

"So do you know which?" Kohr's eyes went not-so-discretely to the group of younglings. Eragon threw him a warning look and Kohr sighed. "Right. Secrecy. I never understood the point of that, myself... _Elves_."

* * *

A/N:

The first in what will hopefully be a series of installments, though I can't promise linear progression. Again, it might make more sense if you read a bit of Eragon Vraelson but, if not, you'll catch up quickly. You can think of this as a bit of preamble to Vraelson, actually. It's the little events that happened between Eragon's taking on apprentices and the Fall of the Order.

Some of these (assuming I continue posting these) will be directly mentioned, referenced, or seen in Vraelson so, if you're reading both, sorry about any repeats but some of them are important for certain characters to be told while others are just for fun.

Also, this is my 24th story! Woo! Two dozen!

Well, actually, it's story number 25 but I got rid of a poorly written little one shot for HP. Like... It was _bad_. SO NOW THIS IS TWENTY-FOUR! YAASSS

Time to go to sleep. It's 2:17 in the morning for me and I've got a bus to wake up for at six... It's a hard life.

Sue


End file.
